


Favorite Liar (It Takes One to Know One)

by loveandallthat



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 03:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11523792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandallthat/pseuds/loveandallthat
Summary: It's easier for Dex and Nursey before they start really paying attention to each other, before they have insights into one another that they never asked for. But this, this is uncharted territory. This is too close for comfort, this is...What is this?For NurseyDex Week day 1: Getting together/Mutual pining. More getting together than mutual pining.





	Favorite Liar (It Takes One to Know One)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song "Favorite Liar" by The Wrecks, which means it works on three levels: the song title, the lyrics (... sort of), and the band name. Also by Liar by Taking Back Sunday. (It takes one to know one.)
> 
> HUGE thanks to [dolleye](http://dolleye.tumblr.com/) on tumblr who looked through this on short notice and caught my dumb mistakes and made me laugh while doing it. <3

Nursey is tapping his foot. Not in any way that implies that he has a song stuck in his head, as Dex has first guessed. Possibly they’ve been spending too much time together, because it looks like Nursey might actually be fidgeting out of nervousness, restlessness. 

Dex would rather not say anything. He’s not even doing anything important, anything he can’t be distracted from, and he’s wearing headphones. When he focuses on his music, Nursey’s foot tapping fades into the background.

But inexplicably, he can’t do that at all. Instead he’s completely zeroed in on exactly what Nursey is doing at any given moment. At first, when they moved in together, it was like that all the time--just a vague worry that kept him concentrating on Nursey, as though he had to defend himself from something. But that was no way to live, and Dex had gotten mostly used to their cohabitation, and let his guard down to maintain his own sanity.

So it was unusual to be annoyed by Nursey like this, while they were both minding their own business instead of actually arguing. 

“Nurse,” Dex finally calls over to him. “What’s up?”

Nursey shakes out of his blank-eyed stare. “... Not much, what’s up with you?”

Dex scoffs. “I’m not taking a survey. I meant what’s up with the twitchy behavior?”

“Rude much,” Nursey responds, frowning.

“You literally call me twitchy all the time,” Dex points out. Nursey shrugs, so Dex rolls his eyes. He’s not actually mad; there’s just a weird, unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach at seeing this side of Nursey, something he hasn’t even glimpsed in the month since they’ve started cohabiting. It’s just enough to compel him to action.

Action, in this case, is turning his entire body towards Nursey to make the stare extra obvious, and then just waiting until the tension is too much.

Nursey drums his fingers on the table, and Dex very obviously directs his gaze towards them.

“Fine, I’m twitchy,” Nursey relents. “What’s your point? Hoping to make fun of me for it?”

That  _ has  _ occurred to Dex, but he isn’t going to do it now that Nursey suggested it. He doesn’t really want to start a fight anyway.

Besides, he realizes he’s actually asking out of concern, and feels defensive all of a sudden. “Just wondering what was up with you,” he says, trying to sound casual. Almost certainly, given the shock on Nursey’s face, it doesn’t work.

“Aw, Dex, you’re worried about me,” Nursey chirps, but even Dex, reddening by the second, can tell that it’s falling flat, that Nursey’s heart’s not in it.

That’s pretty much an indication that yes, he should be worried. He tries to look unconcerned, thinks it’s mostly working--nobody has picked up on it before, anyway. Except maybe Bitty. It’s possible that Dex is still coming off as angry, even now. To be fair, he’s not exactly pleased that he’s suddenly so focused on whatever’s going on with Nursey.

“Just spill it,” Dex sighs, thinking he’s tempting fate by asking Nursey to spill something.

Nursey looks at him for a while, assessingly. “It’s just a tough essay. No big deal.”

For Nursey to admit a problem--a personal one, not an overall problem with the state of the world--it must be pretty serious. Dex knows this. Everyone knows this, though Dex might, in a weird way, have been the person who paid Nursey the most attention even before they started rooming together.

Dex is out of his element. He has no idea how to fix this. “Do you… need to take a break?”

“A break?” Nursey repeats. “I have five thousand words left and it’s after 10. A break?”

“Going down to the kitchen and not writing can’t be that much less productive than sitting here and not writing,” Dex mutters, offended.

“Harsh,” Nursey complains, but he’s already getting up. Dex hurries to follow him.

There is leftover pie, which isn’t a surprise, but also cookies and brownies. Dex makes a mental note to ask if Bitty’s OK, or to text Chowder and tell him to ask.

Nursey eats like he’s ravenous. “Did you have dinner?” Dex asks, surprising himself.

“Oh,” Nursey answers. “Maybe not.”

“ _ Maybe  _ not,” Dex mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes. “There might be some leftover pizza?” Instead of waiting, he takes a box out and sticks it in front of Nursey on the table.

“Thanks, man,” Nursey says. “Don’t you have work to do or something?”

The words sit funny with Dex. “Well, sorry if I’m bothering you,” he spits, starting to stand up. Nursey grabs his wrist--it doesn’t stop him with actual force, more surprise than anything else.

“I’m just surprised you’re being nice to me,” Nursey explains. Then he frowns. “That doesn’t sound good either, does it? It’s just weird you even noticed.”

He doesn’t clarify what Dex noticed, but he doesn’t need to.

“You were being pretty obvious,” Dex replies, sitting back down and grabbing a slice of cold pizza, more out of a need for something to do with his hands than actual hunger. It might also keep him from saying anything dumb.

Nursey is still looking at him funny, so Dex gets up to get himself a glass of water, then gets another one while he’s at it, trying not to be rude. He sets it down by the pizza.

“Thanks,” Nursey says around the food in his mouth. He’s still looking at Dex like he’s never seen him before, until he goes back to the cookies.

“Didn’t have enough sugar before the pizza?” Dex chirps without thinking about it.

“Dessert before dinner doesn’t mean you can’t have it after dinner, too. It’s like bookends,” Nursey explains seriously. “Besides, sugar is brain fuel.”

“If you say so.”

“It really is,” Nursey says, grabbing two extra brownies as he stands up and heads back for the stairs. “Back to work,” he announces. Dex actually does have homework, though it’s easy and not even due until the end of the week. He follows anyway; maybe Nursey’s sudden increased productivity is rubbing off on him. Either way, it’s like he can’t help but go with him.

When he sits down at his own desk, too close to Nursey’s for comfort, Nursey drops the other brownie onto it.

“Don’t even pretend you didn’t want another one,” he insists lightly, and Dex snorts. Of course he did; Bitty baked them.

But Nursey is right back to work, minus the shaking. Dex could count it as a victory, but he can just as easily imagine about an hour into the future when Nursey would be right back to it.

“Was that enough of a break?” he blurts, when he can’t hold it back anymore.

Nursey jerks his head back up, having focused back on his writing. “Um, it has to be,” he answers, squinting at Dex.

“Don't kill yourself over it,” Dex insists, unsure why he feels so adamant about this. It might just be that this is a huge change from their norm. Sure Nursey will study, and he writes in a way Dex can tell is for class, not personal. But never without at least a baseline level of chill.

“I can go somewhere else if I’m bothering you,” Nursey suggests uncertainly, not looking up from his work.

“That’s not what I meant.” Dex can feel himself get at least as anxious as Nursey, probably more. 

Nursey stands up slowly, walks all the way around Dex, eyes on him the entire time. It's like being x-rayed. “You're seriously worried about me.”

Dex goes warm. “I thought we established that,” he says. 

“I thought we were kidding,” Nursey replies. “Dude, I’m fine. I’ll be even better when this is done, and I bet I can finish it by midnight now.”

There’s no way Dex can even imagine coming up with thousands of words in less than two hours, but he’s almost ready to believe that Nursey can. Except that the tapping is back.

“OK, seriously,” Dex starts.

“Fine! Fine,” Nursey sighs. He seems to fight to keep his breathing under control, ultimately managing it. “This particular essay  _ might  _ be slightly outside my comfort zone, and I'm  _ maybe  _ having more trouble than usual.”

“Might,” Dex scoffs, but he’s suddenly uncomfortable. He doesn’t really know what to do with this version of Nursey; he’s only just started to get used to them living in the same room and having to stop fighting all the time. “Do you want to talk it through?”

Nursey looks at him like he’s speaking another language. “With you?”

“I mean, I could go get someone else if you’d rather?” It’s like Dex can feel his walls coming back up.

“No,” Nursey replies, “If you really don’t mind?”

Dex has no idea if he minds or not, but there’s really no good way to back out now, with the look on Nursey’s face, with the realization that he actually accidentally stumbled upon something that might be helpful, or at least appreciated.

“Go for it,” he says, since that, at least, isn’t a lie.

Nursey goes for it, and Dex has written papers, of course, but never really imagined this level of complexity. Of course he knew Nursey, as an English major, would be doing something beyond Dex’s experience--Dex isn’t in the habit of looking down on other majors. At some points Nursey gets animated, like he really cares about what he’s talking about, until he gets to a point where he seems to gloss over it.

“Stop,” Dex says, then realizes he sounds like a jerk. “I mean, go back and talk about that more.”

He tries to say it like a challenge, to use their usual habits, and by the look on Nursey’s face, he takes it as one. He starts out awkward, but Dex just kind of stares him down until he keeps talking. A lot of it goes over Dex’s head, to be honest, but he can tell that there’s an increase in exposition. Nursey eventually picks up on this.

“Do you even know what I'm talking about?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound patronizing.

“To be fair I haven't read this book,” Dex points out. “But I was never good at symbolism in high school either, so that might not have helped.”

“You could be good at it if you tried,” Nursey says off-handedly. It’s unsettlingly nice, so Dex immediately assumes he’s being made fun of for his priorities. “Or if you keep listening to me talk about it…  I still don’t get why you’re helping me,” Nursey mumbles.

Dex thinks, don’t ask that. He doesn’t know, is the thing, except that sitting around and watching someone clearly suffering doesn’t sit well with him at all. He’s pretty sure that if it were possible, Nursey would do the same for him, except that he always has Chowder for CS questions. Maybe when he takes his humanities requirements. But they’d better be much easier than this.

That makes him wonder. “Are your assignments always like this?”

“Sort of,” Nursey answers. “Usually I can handle them. Even if it’s a lot of work I don’t get stuck like this too often.”

Dex can’t deny that he’s a little impressed. “I can’t imagine coming up with stuff like what you were talking about on a regular basis.”

“Dude, I can’t do anything on a computer except open up a Word document or a browser. We can’t all do everything, even if it’d be nice to not keep calling tech support.”

At that, Dex snorts. He can imagine it too vividly in his mind. “I doubt you’re breaking your computer beyond what Chowder and I can figure out.”

Nursey looks up, eyes wide. “Well yeah, but I don’t want to, like, take advantage of my friendships.”

Friendship, Dex thinks. “Like you wouldn’t help me with a paper if… when I eventually have one?”

“Well, there’s no tech support for that. Besides, I’d probably think it was fun.”

Oh, Dex thinks. “You really care about this stuff.” He means English, but then he remembers they were talking about friendship, and not taking advantage, and yeah, Nursey seems to really care about that, too.

“I  _ am  _ majoring in it…” Nursey chirps, getting back to his typing. It’s faster than Dex usually sees him type, though Dex’s standards are a bit high.

“Shit, I’m distracting you,” Dex realizes, looking away from Nursey’s hands on the keyboard. 

Nursey laughs, which is surprising somehow. “It’s chill; you helped way more than you distracted.”

Dex has always taken academia seriously, if nothing else. And a glimpse into just how seriously Nursey takes his own classes gives him pause--not because he assumed Nursey specifically didn’t. He just forgets sometimes that he’s not the only one struggling.

“Good,” he replies, distracted and a little late, eyes drifting right back to watch Nursey work.

\---

They’re at practice a week later when Nursey notices Dex stepping away to take a phone call.

Their chemistry has been completely on point this entire practice, and Nursey knows that they’ve always had it in them, been especially good at pulling it out for every game, but it feels so incredibly natural.

That’s how he explains to himself how quickly he notices that Dex isn’t quite right when he comes back, anyway. Even Bitty doesn’t seem to notice, though he could be waiting, feeling it out.

“Something wrong?” he asks Dex, eventually, when they’re crossing paths. It’s a little bit of a clumsy moment to do it; they’re heading in opposite directions, and Dex doesn’t even try to answer, anyway.

Nursey doesn’t necessarily want to push the issue, but he doesn’t really want to be  _ that guy _ talking about feelings, even if it is Samwell, even if people already kind of expect it from him. At least, he manages to keep it in until practice is over, when the locker room is cleared out and Bitty and Ford are talking to the coaches in their office.

Dex is taking his time, too. Nursey assumes it’s because something seriously is wrong, but the way he keeps glancing over at Nursey and still not leaving makes a small part of him feel like Dex might actually want to talk.

So Nursey sits down even though he’s obviously ready to leave.

It’s less of a surprise than it usually would be when Dex sits down next to him, dressed but still toweling off his hair, and gives him a sideways glance.

Considering that he already asked, Nursey feels pretty weird about repeating his inquiry regarding Dex’s current state of mind, so he doesn’t. It kind of seems like Dex is ready for this to be his turn to talk, anyway.

“So, my parents called me,” Dex says, after only a moment. Nursey was kind of gearing up to wait much longer, and he almost startles.

“During the break?” he prompts.

Dex nods. “They were mostly just checking up on me, I guess.”

Nursey’s parents called to check in, too, but he usually leaves those conversations feeling better, rather than worse. He keeps that to himself.

“Well,” Dex continues, “That’s what they call it. Feels more like they’re waiting for me to fuck up so they can tell me they were right all along.”

Nursey’s thoughts must show on his face, because Dex quickly says, “it's not a big deal.”

“What’d they say?” Nursey asks, trying really hard to convey the idea that he agrees that it isn’t a big deal, playing along.

“Usual stuff, am I sure I can handle my major and hockey at the same time. And, um.” Dex looks away. “Someone at the supermarket told my mom about the one-in-four thing.”

“Oh,” Nursey breathes. This is dangerous territory, considering that Dex was weird about it at first, but now probably isn’t the time to point that out.

“She thinks that I’m easily swayed and going to be drawn in by an ‘alternative lifestyle,’ basically,” Dex continues, staring straight ahead. “Like I didn’t already come here with that in mind.”

There’s no way that Dex is saying what Nursey thinks he’s saying. “You asked us if it was really true,” he remembers.

“I wanted it to be, but every time I looked around, people seemed pretty straight.”

No, Nursey thinks, this is impossible. “You can’t tell just by looking,” he blurts.

“Yeah, thanks for the lesson, Shitty. I know that more than anyone.”

Something about Dex’s statement doesn’t sit right, and he’s making the exact same face as back then, asking the team for confirmation.

“You weren’t just wondering,” Nursey says slowly, realizing. “You wanted it to be true.”

“Sorry I couldn’t go to a fancy school that bred Shitty Knight,” Dex mutters.

“Please, Shitty developed in  _ opposition  _ to Andover. I mean there were always guys looking to experiment or who would take what they could get, but it was harder to find something genuine.” Nursey shrugs like it was casual, though it had actually caused him a little bit of heartbreak.

“Which you know because you were looking for it?” Dex deadpans.

“Yes,” Nursey answers, surprised. “You really still haven’t grasped the one in four thing. Even if it is kind of a dumb joke, it came from somewhere.”

Dex is still kind of gaping at him. “I thought it didn’t really apply in athletics!”

“OK, that’s some old-fashioned thinking; Bitty and I . . . and you?” Nursey hesitates, “are not the only non-straight guys on the hockey team.”

Dex doesn’t deny it. “I guess we really are approaching that ratio then.”

“Hell, we might even be the ‘maybe more’,” Nursey says, counting. “But, um, this is why you’re afraid of them thinking you’ve been influenced?” He knows better than to ask if Dex really has been.

Dex grimaces. “My parents think I’m easily influenced. Or weak, I guess.”

“Why, because they don’t know you at all?” Nursey asks. “Or because . . . they know you too well and you’re different at home?” Don’t enjoy this, Nursey reminds himself.

Dex glares, and ah, things are back to normal. “Caring isn’t a weakness,” he says softly, mouth forming the words like they’re ingrained. Nursey panics; he didn’t sign up for this. He knows what Dex is saying is the truth, especially because Nursey has always found caring to be his strength, but he knows guys usually tend to see that differently. That the outside world tends to.

“I know,” Nursey replies, knowing that maybe Dex was hoping he didn’t hear and, especially because of it, pouring his feelings into it in a way he usually doesn’t unless he’s reading something aloud. The new insight into William Poindexter should have been an obvious possibility when confronting him, but Nursey had been too wrapped up in fear of it going wrong.

For his part, Dex looks relieved. 

“Are you all right?” Nursey asks, then immediately wants to backtrack. “It's OK to be hurt… I mean, it's not OK that someone hurt you but like, your feelings are valid.” 

Dex snorts. “Yeah, thanks Dr. Phil.”

“Really? That piece of shit? Can’t you come up with someone better?” Nursey groans.

“Freud?” Dex suggests, really starting to grin now.

“Now you’re just fucking with me.”

The look on Dex’s face confirms it’s true; he’s fucking with him.

“Maybe I'm just so  _ hurt _ I'm having trouble thinking,” Dex says, but the sarcasm falls flat, too close to honesty. Nursey doesn’t call him out on it, but it kills the mood.

Nursey stands up, then looks back at Dex. “Hey,” he says, “let’s go get coffee.”

“I have homework,” Dex says, but he follows right behind.

\---

Sharing a room means sharing a bathroom, something that hadn’t really occurred to Dex until they had moved in.

Nursey’s level of cleanliness is about on par with Dex’s and Chowder’s anyway, but it’s a weird intimacy between the three of them to be surrounded by each other’s personal stuff all the time, to secretly steal soap when they’ve run out and forgotten to buy more. It’s pretty common to accidentally leave underwear shoved in the corner for a week or more at a time before the owner notices. Leaving the door open unless they’re actually showering and sometimes even then. That kind of intimacy.

Dex ordinarily wouldn’t do this, but he left his phone in the bathroom and Nursey has been showering for forever, so he knocks on the door and asks if he can come in to grab his phone.

Nursey opens the door and hands it to him. Fully clothed.

“Um,” Dex starts intelligently. “You’re wasting water.”

He’s thrown off, having been kind of mentally preparing himself for the awkward situation of completely avoiding allowing his sightline to cross over any part of Nursey in the shower, even for a second. A vague part of his brain is screaming about environmental consciousness.

Mostly Dex is worried. People don’t hide in the bathroom and pretend to shower for no reason. He holds his phone awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

Nursey sticks his hand into the shower and turns it off; the sleeve of his shirt is wet when he pulls it back out. “Sorry,” he says. Dex wasn’t really looking for an apology.

Dex slips his phone into his pocket. His hands lift up halfway between the two of them, seemingly without any permission from his brain. “Are you OK?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Nursey deflects.

“I won’t know unless you tell me,” Dex says, not taking the bait, just not feeling like fighting. At first he’d just wanted his phone, but now he’s tired of Nursey lying to him, since he’s started to recognize it all at once.

“That’s very epistemological,” Nursey says, sitting down on the side of the tub. Dex can see that it’s wet, but Nursey pays no mind. Dex slams the toilet closed and sits down, too, like they’re in a perfectly normal place for a conversation. The door is still open--closing it for this conversation seems a bit extreme, a little too private.

“Maybe just philosophical,” Dex replies. He crosses his legs so his ankle rests on his knee, and is almost immediately uncomfortable.

“Sure,” Nursey agrees willingly, elbows on his knees, looking at the floor. Eventually he just sighs. “Nothing’s actually wrong. It’s just a weird come-down from writing.”

“Oh. OK,” Dex says. “I mean, I don’t completely believe you, but…”

Nursey snorts. “The truth is, I was writing something personal and emotional and now I’m coming down from that, but I didn’t think that you wanted to go there.”

Dex finally can’t take his own physical discomfort  anymore and puts both feet flat on the floor again. Will he ever be as comfortable in his body as Nursey, who manages to make sitting in a bathroom look intentional--until he slips, the vindictive part of his brain thinks. He realizes he’s staring at the same time Nursey does.

“Should I leave?” Dex asks finally.

“We could probably both stand to not hang out in the bathroom, but I’m not desperate to be alone or anything.”

It’s a direct contradiction to the fact that he’s barricaded himself in the bathroom, but Dex doesn’t feel like calling him out on it, especially when behind his words, Nursey is practically begging him to stay.

“What were you writing about?” If Nursey is surprised that Dex asks, it’s nothing compared to how Dex feels when he actually voices the question swimming around in his mind.

“How people probably only like me when I’m chill,” Nursey says, then his eyes widen. Dex can’t come up with anything to say, so he’s almost grateful when Nursey continues. “I mean, except for you.”

Never mind, not good at all. He’s framed Dex’s anger as something much more positive.

“That’s mostly because I wish I could act like that,” Dex admits, since they’re being honest. It feels wrong somehow.

Nursey considers him seriously for a moment. “Does it help to know it’s partly an act?”

“Sort of,” Dex says. “But I can’t always tell when it is and when it isn’t.” He leans forward to put his elbows on his knees, knowing he’s bringing himself just a little closer to Nursey.

Almost mirroring him, Nursey does the same. “Which means you can tell sometimes.”

Dex shrugs, feeling his face heat. “You’ve seemed more obvious to me lately. You know, protecting your feelings with fake chill is kind of cliche.”

“So is hiding them with anger.” Nursey looks surprised at himself, eyes wide.

So they’re really doing this. “Shit,” Dex mutters. “We can’t  _ both  _ be the sensitive one in this friendship.”

Nursey shrugs. “I don't know what to tell you, man. It's probably too late for either of us to change.”

Dex snorts. He was mostly kidding, but there's too much truth to it, even with everything they've admitted to each other recently.

He looks over at Nursey, who still somehow looks like he was made to sit on the edges of tubs that undeniably needed to be cleaned at least a week ago. 

Inevitably, Nursey catches him checking him out, and goes to say something.

“I’ll go,” Dex says, immediately, already following through on his promise. He closes the door behind him, leaves Nursey approximately as he found him.

\---

No, Nursey thinks. “No,” he says aloud, though nobody can hear him.

He opens the door to the room he shares with Dex, the room he can’t stop thinking of as Lardo’s, remembering back to lying awkwardly sprawled on her bed with her laptop editing her words, while she went through his phone, with his permission. The way she’d shake her head at his conversations with Dex, but never criticize. That’s how the room always feels to him when he steps in, before he remembers it as his own now. Dex probably doesn’t have that experience, which is why Nursey’s never brought it up, no matter how obvious his double-takes sometimes are.

“So, uh, that was weird,” he says to Dex, who has walked over and sat down at his desk chair and put his face in his hands. Dex startles, of course, and Nursey manages not to laugh at him too much.

Dex looks up with fire in his eyes. “What’s weird about me looking at you?” he asks. Obviously he knows what Nursey means, then.

In theory, nothing is wrong with that, but in practice, everything is.

“You weren’t just looking; you were  _ looking _ ,” Nursey accuses, a little louder than he means. Dex goes immediately red. It’s actually quite shocking.

“That’s not weird either. Everyone  _ looks _ at you.”

Nursey’s still kind of reeling. “Not you. You’ve known me for how long and this is the first time.”

“That you noticed.”

“Oh.”

The silence seems to echo off the bare walls. The sun moves behind the clouds and darkens the room, changes the shadows. They still don’t move or speak.

“Well,” Dex says, and Nursey locks eyes with him. “Maybe I have been looking more, in general. After I realized all the shit you were hiding behind your ‘chill’ front.”

“I’m a walking stereotype,” Nursey deadpans, though he sort of means it.

“Hard same,” Dex says, dropping his head back into his hands. Nursey laughs, and uses his wrists to pull him into a standing position first, then gently tugs them away so he can look at Dex properly. He’s still blushing.

“Do you have to be so close?” Dex asks. Nursey can barely hear him, though they admittedly are pretty close.

“No. I just want to. Tell me if I’m reading this wrong.” There’s no way he’s reading this wrong, but there’s no way he’s reading it right. Nursey wipes his hand on his pants before he brings it to Dex’s face.

“So far so good,” Dex says, right before Nursey closes the distance between their mouths. 

****  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I didn't start thinking about this week until recently, but I'm still going to try to do every day!
> 
> Please comment anything! Especially criticism. Even if it's not constructive. But also any thoughts are accepted, tangential ones included.
> 
> Find me on tumblr as [loveandallthat](http://loveandallthat.tumblr.com/)! I take prompts for tons of fandoms and pairings.


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